


Rule of Three

by imadra_blue



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Study, Drama, Humor, M/M, POV Third Person, Romance, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-11
Updated: 2011-08-11
Packaged: 2017-10-22 12:46:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imadra_blue/pseuds/imadra_blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yamamoto and Hibari share three stories in three different parallel universes, one funny, one bittersweet, and one tragic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rule of Three

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Katekyō Hitman Reborn! and all its characters are property of Amano Akira. No copyright infringement is intended.  
> Notes: Written for Andreaphobia's request. Each story is separate, but could be viewed as part of the same continuity if you wanted. This is a weird experiment on my part, so we'll all see how it works out. Concrit is always welcome.

**1.**

"Yamamoto Takeshi. I am allowing you to join the Namimori Middle Disciplinary Committee."

Yamamoto blinked. Of all the reasons for Hibari to call him into his office, this seemed the most absurd. He had expected to be told off or bitten to death for any number of things, such as playing hide and go seek with Lambo when he should have been in English class, or bringing a weapon to school, or even for not tucking in his shirt, but he certainly did not expect to be invited into Hibari's committee. If his statement could even be counted as an invitation. It sounded more like an order.

"Um, that's nice of you."

"You will start tomorrow morning at dawn. Report to Kusakabe for your orders. You may replace him once you've proven yourself."

"Wait, wait." Yamamoto held up his hands. "I don't know if I want to join your committee."

"Why should that matter?" Hibari asked, tilting his head to the side. His eyes glittered dangerously.

Yamamoto laughed. It was hard not to laugh. Hibari was so serious, so intense, so selfish and stubborn, that he reminded Yamamoto of Lambo. Only Hibari was even more adorable--in a different sort of way. "All right, I guess I could join. But I'm not wearing a pompadour."

Before Hibari could respond, Lambo burst in through the window, letting in the chill air with him. Brown leaves scattered before him, some still stuck to his head. "Ha!" he shouted, pointing at Yamamoto. "Lambo found you!"

Hibari turned around and glared at Lambo so fiercely that Yamamoto half-expected the little boy to burst into flames. "Hey, now," he said, taking a step forward. "Take it easy, he's only a kid."

"Uwaaaaaaah!" Lambo cried, his eyes welling with tears. "Stop looking at meeeeee!" He pulled out a familiar bazooka from his wild tangle of hair.

Yamamoto dived forward and tried to grab at the bazooka. "Lambo, wait!" Just as he grabbed it, Lambo pulled the trigger, and a cloud of smoke of engulfed him. When it cleared, Yamamoto found himself sitting across from Hibari, alone.

"Yamamoto Takeshi."

Yamamoto blinked at Hibari. Something seemed off. Hibari seemed to have cut his hair in the time it took the smoke to clear, and he even seemed a little taller. Yamamoto realized he was not standing in the Disciplinary Committee office any longer, but sitting on a wide bed. Stranger still, Hibari's hands were pressed against his chest, and Hibari wore nothing but trousers. Yamamoto tried to not stare at the bared flesh and failed. Hibari had lovely white skin.

Hibari dropped his hands and frowned slightly. "The little cow shot you with his bazooka."

"Wow, you're really smart." Yamamoto smiled. "How did you know?"

"Do you realize what just happened?"

"Er." Yamamoto considered Hibari's delicate face. He gave nothing away, as usual, but his face seemed different. Leaner, sharper--older. "You and yourself from the future exchanged places!"

Hibari stared. "You were the one hit by the bazooka, not I."

"You're right. That's really weird. How did we get in this room, by the way?"

"You were the one hit by the bazooka."

Yamamoto considered this, then it suddenly dawned on him what Hibari meant. "Oh. I'm the one who exchanged places with myself from ten years in the future, then?"

Hibari lounged back against his pillows. "And you'll exchange back in a few minutes." His trousers had been undone, so Yamamoto could see the smooth flesh of Hibari's abdomen--and even a bit of dark pubic hair that peeked out. Yamamoto felt his face grew hot.

"Er. _Senpai_? Your, er, clothes…" Yamamoto could not rip his gaze off Hibari's flesh, even though the more he stared, the hotter he grew.

Hibari glanced down. "Ah, yes. He did not finish undressing me. Where were you before you exchanged?"

Yamamoto was not sure what to think of what Hibari said about being undressed, but thought it best to respond somehow. After all, this Hibari was an adult. "Oh, I think I was just joining your committee, but I'm not really sure."

Hibari considered this. "He will be surprised."

"Who?"

"My younger self."

"Why?"

"Because the you from this time will appear."

Yamamoto considered this. "Can you even be surprised?"

"When a naked man suddenly appears in my office, yes."

"Naked?" Yamamoto stared. His heart beat a little faster. "Why is he naked?"

Hibari glanced at Yamamoto and for the first time that Yamamoto had seen, he smirked. "Because I undressed him."

Yamamoto had no response to that. He could not even think. All he could do was stare and long to be his older self. The future suddenly seemed a very pleasant, interesting place. A sudden impulse bit at him, and he leaned forward and kissed Hibari. It had to be okay, if he and Hibari's selves from the future were sleeping together. Hibari kissed back at first, his lips soft, and his tongue darting against Yamamoto's lips. Yamamoto parted his lips, eager to oblige, but then Hibari shoved him away.

"Not until you're older," Hibari said, and yawned.

"But--" Yamamoto struggled up, and a cloud of smoke engulfed him. The younger Hibari, the one he knew, blinked and then glared at him.

"Hi," Yamamoto said and smiled. He stood up and looked around for Lambo, but the boy was nowhere to be seen. He had likely run away. Yamamoo could hardly blame him, if his naked older self had truly appeared.

"Pervert," Hibari snapped, and punched him. Yamamoto fell back again, his ass slamming into the floor, his jaw aching, and his split lip screaming in pain. He felt warm blood trickle down his nose.

"What was that for?" Yamamoto asked, or tried to ask, though he was not sure his stinging jaw cooperated enough to make the appropriate sounds.

Hibari turned away. "Tomorrow morning at dawn. And you better have your clothes _on_."

Yamamoto managed to pull himself up and wiped the blood from his nose. He grinned. Now he really did have a reason for joining the committee. "All right. I'll keep them on until you're ready to take them off again."

Hibari stared as Yamamoto limped away. "Again?" he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

Yamamoto only laughed and headed out to find Lambo.

 

 **2.**

Yamamoto took another drag of his cigarette and continued to watch Hibari's bedroom window from the street. The tobacco tasted bitter on his tongue, but he had grown used to it by now. Gokudera said that smoking did not suit him, but Yamamoto found it too calming to quit. There was something rhythmic about it, like the seasons. Roll the cigarette, light the cigarette, smoke the cigarette, stub the cigarette out.

The bedroom light never flickered. Hibari and Dino cast no shadows upon the window. Judging by the window alone, Yamamoto could pretend Hibari did no more than read a book. But he knew that reading was not something Hibari and Dino did together. Not for the first time, Yamamoto wondered why Hibari liked sex with the light on. Most people wanted to turn it off during moments of intimacy. Or maybe that was only him, so he could pretend the men he slept with were Hibari.

The house was large and traditional. Yamamoto stood in the perfectly manicured garden, listening to the gentle _doink_ of the _shishi-odoshi_. The stone path winded through flowers and rocks alike. Everything about Hibari's home screamed of his wealth and class. That had not surprised Yamamoto. Hibari possessed a natural gift for playing the tyrannical _bocchan_.

After an hour, the window went dark. Within minutes, Dino stepped out of the front door, his clothes still rumpled. Yamamoto's stomach twisted into knots at the sight of him. Dino smiled slightly as he adjusted his coat and walked away. He did not trip or stumble--an effect that Hibari, much like Dino's men, seemed to have on him. Dino never noticed Yamamoto. He never did.

Hibari noticed, though. He leaned against his doorframe, his loose yukata revealing a smooth, white chest. Yamamoto took another drag and stared at the expanse of smooth flesh, imagining his hands had just slid over it, not Dino's.

"You're still out here," Hibari said, crossing his arms.

Yamamoto smiled around his cigarette. "I was waiting."

"For what?"

"You to finish."

Hibari studied him, his expression giving away nothing. He might as well have been carved from Adelheid's ice. "I do not understand you, Yamamoto Takeshi."

"I'm not that hard to understand. You're the one who's hard to understand. Why Dino? What does he have that I don't?"

"I like the way he fights."

Yamamoto tossed his cigarette onto the stone path and ground it down with a shoe. "You don't like the way I fight?"

Hibari turned his face. "You can't keep up with me."

"Yes, I can," Yamamoto said, taking a step closer. "I can do anything you want."

"Go find someone else. Maybe that noisy herbivore with the dynamite."

"I don't want him. And he doesn't want me."

"Neither do I."

That stung, but Yamamoto ignored it as he took another step closer. He studied Hibari. "But I want you."

Hibari's face twitched as if fighting off an expression. "How many times do I have to tell you 'no'?"

"It doesn't matter. You only have to say 'yes' once." Yamamoto stepped close enough to Hibari to feel his warm breath ghost across his hand. Hibari punched him hard in the gut, but Yamamoto had suffered worse. He remained upright, trying to ignore the pain, struggling for breath, but did not stop staring at Hibari. He could not stop waiting. Ever since Tsuna had saved him from committing suicide, he promised himself he would never give up on things that were important.

"Will you go away if I say 'yes'?" Hibari asked, narrowing his eyes as Yamamoto gripped the doorframe to steady himself.

Yamamoto hesitated, then shook his head. Nothing could make him stop. No one else could challenge him the way that Hibari did. No one else could make him want so much.

Hibari turned his back and started to walk inside his house. "It's going to rain soon."

There was no doubt of that. Yamamoto could smell it in the air, feel its heady power in his fingertips. This was his time. "But only because I want it to."

Hibari paused down his hallway, one bare foot half-lifted from the polished wood floor. He said nothing for a long time, though his body remained tense, prepared to take that step away at any moment. "Yes," he finally said.

Yamamoto exhaled. It was easy to ignore the pain in his gut now, for his heart seemed ready to burst. He closed the distance between himself and Hibari in two steps and wrapped his arms around the slender figure. He buried his face in Hibari's wild black hair, pretending he could not still smell Dino on him. Hibari leaned back after a moment, his firm body taut against Yamamoto's. He did not make a sound, even when Yamamoto untied his yukata, until Yamamoto took his cock in hand. The small sigh made Yamamoto shiver. When they reached Hibari's bedroom, Yamamoto left the light on. He wanted to enjoy the sight, just as Dino had.

The rain poured down as Yamamoto took Hibari. He could hear it thrumming against the roof, enclosing the estate, obscuring their activities from the outside world. The sight of Hibari's flushed face and open mouth when Yamamoto spread his thighs was the most beautiful thing Yamamoto had ever seen. Hibari dominated in battle, but he acquiesced in bed, letting Yamamoto have him as many times as he wanted. His grip felt strong around Yamamoto's shoulders every time Yamamoto thrust into him. The way he arched his back when Yamamoto took him into his mouth seemed obscene, though he made only soft noises, as small as the animals he was so fond of. The muted gasp Hibari gave every time he came undid Yamamoto over and over again. When they were done, Hibari no longer smelled of Dino.

After Hibari fell asleep, Yamamoto got up to turn off the light. Darkness shuttered his sight until his eyes adjusted, and the moonlight became sufficient to see. He opened the window to let fresh air in. Rain splashed over the windowsill, wetting the floor below, but Yamamoto left the window open. He watched Hibari sleep, enjoying the scent of rain in his nostrils and the taste of Hibari in his mouth. He smiled until his gaze fell upon the small gold figurine of a stallion lying on Hibari's bedside table.

Yamamoto rolled a fresh cigarette and lit it, keeping his gaze focused on his task, rather than that damn stallion figurine. The smoke curled into the air, the tobacco commanding his sense of smell and taste.

He leaned against the wall and waited for Hibari to wake.

 

 **3.**

Yamamoto spat blood onto the floor. He scrabbled at the splintered wood, trying to find _Shigure Kintoki_. Hard metal fingers enclosed by a leather glove gripped his hair and yanked his head back. Squalo gave him a toothy grin, his sword flashing white as he swung it towards Yamamoto's neck.

The blade never made contact, for Yamamoto tossed himself forward. Squalo's mechanical hand could not release him fast enough, and they both pitched onto the ground. Screeching in Italian, Squalo sprung to his feet at the same time as Yamamoto did. The sound was so sharp that Yamamoto's ears ached. He snatched _Shigure Kintoki_ from the floor and pointed it at Squalo. It shifted back into a blade.

"You're not Squalo."

The illusion of Squalo faded, and Tsuna stood before him. Or, rather, what was left of Tsuna stood before him. His eyes burned with inhuman hatred, though he smiled at Yamamoto. The kanji for the number six glowed bright in his right eye.

"Give him back!" Yamamoto cried, and rushed forward, blade raised.

"There is nothing left to give back, Yamamoto Takeshi. He has fallen, as has the rest of your family." Rokudō Mukuro held out his trident, his fists burning with Tsuna's X-flames. "As will the rest of the mafia world."

Hatred like Yamamoto had never felt before coursed through his body. He tried not to think of Gokudera, of Sasagawa, of Lambo. He tried to focus only on defeating Rokudō. He would cut that bastard out of Tsuna's flesh and restore his friend. He could not lose again.

Rokudō could not be defeated so easily. He smirked and sent the world spinning around, recreating the images of Yamamoto's fallen family and friends to torment him with. Over and over, Yamamoto watched Gokudera burn alive in the incinerator that Chrome had trapped him in, Ken rip out Sasagawa's throat with his teeth, M.M. cut out Lambo's eyes. His heart broke with each image, shattering into smaller and smaller pieces every time. And he screamed.

Someone else joined the screaming, and the illusions ended, flickering away like the screen of a broken television. Yamamoto blinked and realized Hibari had appeared. Blood splattered as he slammed his tonfa into Tsuna's--no, Rokudō's--face, over and over. Whatever enjoyment Hibari had once taken from fighting Rokudō seemed gone now. The rage of a cornered animal had possessed Hibari. His Foundation, too, had fallen before Rokudō.

Rokudō's screams sounded suspiciously like Tsuna's. Yamamoto took a step forward, his hand trembling. "Stop. Hibari, please stop! We have to save Tsuna!"

The screams abruptly ended, and Tsuna's body went still. Rokudō's smile no longer marred his face--for he had no face. He was a ruin of blood and bone and flesh.

"There's nothing left to save," said Hibari, his voice cracking. He kneeled by Tsuna's body, shuddering, his back to Yamamoto.

Yamamoto staggered. The room spun, but he was not sure if it was from the blood pouring down his temple where the Squalo-illusion had cut him, or from the horror of his loss. He could not recall how it came to this, how they had lost so much, how their world had been torn asunder by Rokudō's vengeance. Outside, snow began to fall, quenching the flames of their battle. A few flakes drifted in through the broken windows. One settled on Yamamoto's cheek, melting instantly.

"Hibari," Yamamoto whispered, falling to his knees. His knees smarted when they slammed onto the floor, but one pain had become much like the other. His heart ached. He had lost everything but Hibari. He thanked whatever divine being there might be for leaving him at least that. "Hibari. I love you," he babbled, the words pouring from his mouth. He had never said it before, but he had to say it now. He had to make sure Hibari knew how much he meant to him. It did not even matter if Hibari returned the sentiment. Yamamoto simply needed him to know.

Hibari stood and finally turned to face Yamamoto. His eyes burned with inhuman hatred, and the kanji for number six glowed in his right eye. He smiled as Rokudō always did and took a step toward Yamamoto, his hand out.

"Will you still love me now?" Rokudō asked with Hibari's voice, and leaned forward to kiss him.


End file.
